


Unspoken Words Dig Deep

by RemainingQuestions



Series: Joe Has A Knife [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M, Painplay, Praise Kink, ax is sassy, set in season six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemainingQuestions/pseuds/RemainingQuestions
Summary: Ax likes when it hurts. Joe likes the glint of a knife.Sometimes kind words are the sharpest tool.aka i wanted painandpraise FITE ME
Relationships: Joe Hills/Apathetic Xisuma
Series: Joe Has A Knife [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007916
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	Unspoken Words Dig Deep

“Howdy Ax!” Joe’s voice was chipper. 

“What.” Ax didn’t stumble as he jumped down, wasn’t unused to survival walking at all. 

“You know, a lil birdie told me something the other day…” Ah fuck, was Joe going to lecture him about his use of Creative again? “It ain’t about that latest thing, Ax.” 

“What  _ is _ it about, then.” 

“Well…” Joe patted his pockets, and drew out a brand new quill. “It’s not really common knowledge. Why don’t we head over to the Ministry of Truth.” He turns the quill in his hands, studying the stump point. “Yeah that’s a better idea.” 

Ax looks around the shopping district and shrugs. “Fine?” What was it Joe was talking about? He had some secrets, but very few he actually cared about keeping. 

They landed, and Joe guides him downward, into the bowels. “Come along Ax.” 

Ax shivered at Joe’s chipper tone. There was only one thing he could think of that could give Joe that tone, especially towards him. 

“Take a seat Ax.” Joe sits down on a chair, but opposite him is a  _ bed _ .

Ax sits down, anticipation building as it becomes clear what, exactly, Joe figured out. 

Joe grabs his quill again, and takes out a knife too. The light glints of the metal, and Ax is transfixed. Joe’s hands are gentle and soft, but so skilled with the small blade. Ax shifts as he thinks about the blade against his skin. 

“So you figured out I like pain, huh?” Maybe his voice was breathy, but at least he still had some control over the situation. 

Joe hums, and takes off another small piece of his quill. “So I heard, yeah.” His eyes track down to the bulge in Ax’s pants. “Seems it was right on the money, huh?” 

Ax clenches his jaw. The anticipation tingles under his skin. “Maybe.” 

Joe smiles, still fiddling with that knife and quill when he could be pressing that knife against Ax’s  _ skin _ . “Good.” He sighs, twirls the quill around again. “I don’t like it when my information is wrong.” 

Ax shifts his hips again, ignores the soft blush rising on his cheeks. “So? You gonna do something with it, huh?” 

Joe’s hands still, and he looks up, straight into Ax’s eyes. “Would you like me to?”

Ax sighs, he doesn’t pant. 

“Ax,” Joe says, eyes still firmly on his, “would you like me to give you some pain?” 

Maybe Ax keens at that, pants rough against his hardening dick, but the thought of those gentle hands taking that slick blade to  _ him _ instead of that stupid feather with an ego makes his skin spark. 

“Ax,” Joe says, voice still intent, “I need you to be sure about this.” 

“Yeah,” Ax’s voice is breathy, more whimper than anything, “yeah, Joe,  _ please _ .” 

Joe smiles, face still so kind. “Good. Take off your shirt, and lay face down, please.” 

Ax’s hands tremble as he takes off his helmet, unbuckles the heavy suit. The bed is soft against his skin, and the knowledge of what’s about to happen only makes that softness stand out all the more. 

Joe hums, nearly fucking purs, at the sight of him, obedient under his words. Desperate under his promise. “Can you keep still like this?” 

Ax shivers at the reminder of why he would need to  _ keep still _ . He nods, “yeah.” 

“Good.” One last slice of the knife against quill, and then the  _ knife _ gets set down on the side table. 

“Wha-?”

“Sh, Ax, let me.” Joe steps behind him, and then over him, heavy weight settling on his hips, pushing his erection down into the mattress. “Let me, please.” 

Ax whines, but doesn’t push back against the warm hand between his shoulder blades. He shifts his hips instead, can’t help a smirk at the small gasp of the man on top of him. 

“Naughty,” but Joe’s thumb is gentle against his spine. “Hm…” His fingers tap against Ax’s bare back in a staccato rhythm. “Where to start…”

“How about with the knife?” As if to tease him, a ray of sunlight hit the metal and sparked off. 

Joe laughs, softly. “Oh no, none of that.” A pinprick centers Ax’s attention to his right shoulder. “I,” and the  _ quill _ digs in, a single line, small and not even that bad, but Ax still  _ hisses _ from the sensation after all the build up. “De-” The quill continues to lay lines, meticulous and slowly. “-serve kind attention and love.” 

Ax’s eyes are wet, his fingers clenched in the sheets, breath coming in short staccato bursts. “Wha-”

“Shhh,” Joe gently wipes at his face, doesn’t mock this show of emotion. “Let me, please.”

Ax whines, again, the voice dragged from the depths of his chest, of his heart. His dick was hard against the mattress, and so was Joe’s on his ass. He could’ve done  _ anything _ , why was he doing  _ this _ ? 

“It’s okay, I promise it’s okay.” A warm breath fans over the broken skin, and then cracked lips press a gentle kiss to them. A warm hand settles on his back, “let’s continue, okay?” 

Ax knows in that moment that if he were to say no, Joe would let him go. But he stays still. The ache on his back is so nice. The fingers so gentle as they carve letters. 

“I-” Joe starts again, another line and Ax sighs against the sheets, “am able to do amazing things.” Joe doesn’t speed up, doesn’t rush any part of it. 

Ax pants against the sheets, keens when Joe’s quill snags. 

“Good boy.” Joe whispers, kissing his damp cheek. “So good.” 

He continues, small copperplate print pressed into twitching muscles. Nothing but kindness. Kindness for  _ him _ . Never hurried, never digging deep enough to scar. 

Slowly it fills his entire back, the last period neatly above the line of his boxers on the left. 

Joe tugs his hair, rubs his ass. Ax keens, his dick rock hard and his entire back on fire. “Thank you.”

Ax simply keens again, dazed on glorious pain, too confused to make sense of that. 

“For letting me please you.” Joe moves back, puts the quill back into his pocket. “You’re so pretty like this Ax. You really are.” He sighs, dreamily. “If you ever need a reminder, come back. I’ll tell you it all over again.” 

Ax lays there, harder than he can remember being, right on the edge, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t quite dare, yet. 

When he finally stands up, the cuts all over his back flare up, and he desperately attempts to muffle his groan against his hand. 

There’s a mirror in the corner, and curiosity gets the best of Ax. Surely he hadn’t actually written what he’d said? It had felt like it, at the time, but surely no one would do that, for him? He turns his back to the mirror, hisses as he twists to look back at himself.

Not only is it the same text. Joe wrote it mirrored, so he could read it when looking at himself. He doesn’t move, transfixed on the gleaming cuts, as his hand digs down into his pants. As his hand finally frees his rock hard dick. 

He gasps, and the first stroke makes him throw his head back, only twisting his broken skin in different ways. He tries to be silent, tries not to be loud as he jacks himself off while looking at the cuts on his back in the mirror, but he can’t help some of the louder moans. 

He comes quickly, no surprise after the endless build-up, come all over his chest. A gentle groan makes his head twist to the door. 

Joe stands there, clear tent in his trousers, “so pretty.” He looks him up and down, and licks his lips, an unconscious maneuver, “so pretty.” 

Ax feels his cheeks flare up, and he doesn’t bother to consider if that’s in response to being caught or the praise. Instead, he turns around, ignores the soft gasp as that puts his bare back to Joe’s vision, and dabs at his chest with his shirt. 

The following days, Ax is uncommonly absent. It’s not uncommon for him to just disappear for a few days, but he’s still around, just mentally absent. No matter what he does, what he wears, how he moves, the wounds on his back always sting and ache. 

No matter how often he uses his trusty hand, he moves twice, and he’s already sporting a tent. 

He doesn’t see Joe, but somehow he doesn’t doubt that Joe  _ does _ see  _ him _ . Sees him struggle to keep focus, struggle to keep up his normal levels of sass. 

Sees him as he shivers after stretching out. Sees him bite his lip as he picks up a shulker box.

It aches, hurts, to be hard this long, this often. And Ax only revels in that sensation, too. 

He hadn’t had a mirror in his room before, hadn’t cared what he’d looked like. Now, he spends hours in front of one, reveling in the marks on his back. The words are burned into his mind, too. 

He’ll be back, Joe  _ has _ to know this. But for now they’ll both pretend this was a simple one time thing. 


End file.
